


Copper in sunlight

by RoseMeister



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen, set in riverrun just before catelyn sends brienne off with jaime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 13:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19906357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseMeister/pseuds/RoseMeister
Summary: Brienne tries to help Lady Catelyn with her scars.





	Copper in sunlight

Discretion has never been one of Brienne’s talents, and she feels it now more than ever, being let in to Lady Catelyn’s chambers by one of the Riverrun servants. The woman doesn’t bother to disguise her feelings about her, glancing over Brienne’s oiled chainmail with a grimace, but she stands aside and lets Brienne enter.

It’s early. Early enough that Lady Catelyn has likely not broken her fast yet, even though Brienne has been up for some hours at drills. This had seemed like a good idea earlier. An unobtrusive visit, one unlikely to clash with any of Catelyn’s other, more important duties. It was the smart thing, the dutiful thing, the kind thing to do.

Her confidence fades as the maidservant calls for Catelyn loudly, all while keeping her eyes fixed on Brienne and her endless fidgeting. The staring is more than common, but she has never grown used to it, and Brienne snaps her eyes away from the maidservant and towards… anything else. The tapestry hiding the walls, stitched in Tully red and blue. The wide window opening up on a view of the rivers. Anything.

But nothing saves her from the woman’s gaze, slicing under her skin like sharpened steel. Even without words it’s an attack, and not one Brienne can knock aside with a shield. Words and looks and graceful airs form a battle of their own, one just as deadly as those fought with swords. Most noble ladies fight it well, with steeds of grace and courtesy, and armour of silk. But Brienne knows that that kind of battle she has already lost before she has opened her mouth.

Lady Catelyn saves her, sweeping in and dismissing the maidservant before the woman can speak again. Lady Catelyn knows the dance of courtesy as well as any noble, and even in a thin nightgown there is still steel in her spine, and strength enough that the woman doesn’t linger.

Her hair is loosely tied back to suit the early morning, strands of burnt auburn escaping to frame her face. Lady Catelyn has talked about her children many times, and Brienne can almost imagine that same shock of red on theirs. Like copper in the torchlight. There is no torchlight here, but the gold of the sunrise lights it up all the same.

Bright like copper, like a smouldering fire. But theirs wouldn't have traces of smoke in it, weaving through the flames.

“It’s early.” Lady Catelyn tells her. Even with so few words, Brienne is convinced she has made some misstep. Like loosing her footing on muddy ground, and waiting for her opponent to press the advantage, plunge her blade between the obvious gaps in her armour. But Catelyn doesn’t bite at her with words, or false smiles.

Nor would she, Brienne tells herself firmly. The thought gives her strength enough to continue.

“My apologies for disturbing you, my Lady.” Brienne says. “Can I speak with you?”

The fine lines around her eyes and mouth tighten. Like weathered cracks in stone, they only grow deeper with time and ill-weather, and Brienne knows all too well how rough a life Lady Catelyn has endured recently. A husband and two sons lost, and maybe two daughters more.

Brienne realises too late what this looks like, that Lady Catelyn is waiting for more ill news, that she is expecting to bear the weight of another death.

She scrambles instead, fumbles with pouches until she finds the small sealed tin she is looking for. She nearly drops it in her rush, and looks up after a long moment to find Lady Catelyn staring at her. Not like the maidservant, full of unspoken judgment. But cautious, even curious.

“I spoke with the maester.” Brienne explains, and Catelyn’s stare switches to the object in her hands. “About your… Hand.”

“The scars are permanent.” Catelyn says. She shows them to Brienne again, deep and rough and awful. Brienne has heard her tell the story, and she can imagine it just as vivid. Valyrian steel in an assassin’s grip, slicing through bare skin and muscle like soft butter, deeper and deeper with every heartbeat. It could have stolen Catelyn’s fingers, or her hand, or her heart, if a minute more had passed. Even still, the scars are deep and terrible, and turn Catelyn’s hand from that of a highborn lady to that of a hedge knight, or some common soldier. But Catelyn doesn’t flinch from them, and neither will Brienne.

“The maester said that too.” Brienne says. “But I insisted that there had to be something to help. Nothing to make it fade, but something to soften the scar tissue, make movement smoother.”

Something in Lady Catelyn softens. Like steel in a forge, it doesn’t melt, nor break. But it softens.

“How long did you stand over his shoulder to force his hand?” she asks, her tone quietly fond. “The thought is kind. But I have little faith that it will help.”

“But it may.” Brienne insists. She opens the container, and offers it to her. The last thing Brienne wants is to descend into an argument with Lady Catelyn, especially over something so small. And she has never been skilled at fighting with words, finds each of her arguments blunt and coarse in comparison. Actions are so much simpler.

Lady Catelyn refuses to take it. “My Lady,” Brienne starts, unsure of what words will convince her, but speaking still.

She is cut off. “I understand now how you managed to convince the maester to make this.” Lady Catelyn says. There are no hidden barbs in her voice. It is unfair of Brienne to expect there to be, but she always does. Ingrained habits are hard to leave behind, and leave marks on the skin, as silver as old scars. “Just this once. But only if you apply it.”

Lady Catelyn moves to her seat by the window, and waits there without words. The sunrise has passed by now, and the sunlight is brighter, if less gold. It suits her still, to sit in the sunlight with the calm blue of the river behind her. Brienne wishes quietly that there is a time in the future where Lady Catelyn’s burdens melt off her shoulders, and her sorrows too, that she could sit in the sunlight surrounded by her children, protected and safe. Brienne would fight for it with all her strength, but she is one woman, and not even a knight at that. It’s a pleasant dream. But a dream nonetheless.

The maester had given her a tin half filled with a cream, some mix of herbs that Brienne doesn’t know. She holds it awkwardly now, stiff and unsure as she stands before Lady Catelyn, her height all the more magnified while Lady Catelyn is sitting. She wonders if she should kneel, and quietly wonders what the courteous way to behave here would be. Or if there even is a proper way to approach this.

Whatever it is, she doesn’t know it, so instead Brienne carefully takes Lady Catelyn’s scarred hand in one of hers, and raises it to the light. Up close, it is no less awful. Her hand has healed as well as it possibly could, and yet with so severe a wound the scarring is still rough, and even with time it remains a dull red.

Brienne tries to scoop up some of the cream with her other hand, but she flounders with balancing Lady Catelyn’s hand and the tin for a moment, only to be saved once more by Lady Catelyn taking the tin, and balancing it in her good hand.

Even now, Brienne is hesitant to continue. The last time she had tried to touch Lady Catelyn, a brief mad thought that she would be able to comfort her through her losses, she had stopped herself before she had even tried. Now she is half way there, and she still has a thought hovering in the back of her mind, telling her to pull away, to leave this job to someone with delicate, gentle hands. A maidservant or the maester himself, either would suffice. Anyone but Brienne and her calloused fingers, her huge, ungainly hands that seem all the larger when in so close comparison to Lady Catelyn’s. But Lady Catelyn had asked her, and Brienne cannot refuse.

She takes some of the ointment out of the tin, and carefully rubs it into the raised ridges of Lady Catelyn’s scars, working it into her skin and using as much as is necessary to cover each inch of it. The ointment is greasy, and sticks to Brienne’s hands as well, and adds a shine to Lady Catelyn’s scars. It doesn’t erase the colour, nor does it fade the roughened edges. And whether it worked, whether Brienne even applied it properly, she doesn’t know. But with her job done, Brienne slowly pulls her hands away.

Lady Catelyn raises her hand, and slowly opens and closes it. But even Brienne can tell that the movement is still difficult, and she swallows her disappointment, a bitter poison she doesn’t want to put into words.

“The thought was kind.” Lady Catelyn says, placing her scarred hand back in her lap. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Brienne says, quiet so as to hide as much of her thoughts as she can. “But I won’t disturb you any longer.”

“Wait a moment.” Lady Catelyn says. The tension around her eyes is back. It’s small, but Brienne catches it, even if she does not know what it means. “Have you eaten yet?”

“I have not.”

“Break your fast with me. I will not keep you long.”

Brienne hesitates once more. But the dutiful answer matches what she herself wants, and the answer is easy to give. “I would be honoured.”

The tension loosens all at once, like a taut bowstring. Instead, Catelyn looks up at her, with the gentle morning sunlight catching on the red in her hair, and making the grey soft. There’s an almost smile in her eyes, even if her lips don’t move.

One day, Brienne thinks. One day she will force peace and happiness to bow at Catelyn’s feet. Not today, not yet.

But one day.

**Author's Note:**

> ive been doing a binge-read of the books lately & i wanted to write something quick for cat bc she was my favourite all the way through. this is (hopefully) book compliant but ive not seen the show so idk if its compliant with that too lol


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